Demons and Nutella
by ThespiansKC
Summary: "Everybody has demons...but I've noticed that people who acknowledge their demons are happier." Sherlock has returned after three years, and not everything is as he remembers.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome, readers, to Demons and Nutella. This is my first Sherlock fic, and I've been tampering and rewriting for months. This is the (somewhat) finished product. Please read, that would be absolutely wonderful.**

Demons and Nutella

Part One: Demons

_"This call...it's my note. That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note?"_

_"What people do?"_

_"Goodbye, John."_

_Sherlock fell._

_"Sherlock!" John cried, running forward. He had to do something, he wouldn't just stand by and allow his best friend to fall. Not when he owed him so much, and not when his name was hideously disgraced._

_A sickening thud told John that Sherlock had hit the ground._

John Watson awoke.

The ex-doctor tried to calm his breath, telling himself that it was just a dream. Sherlock had fallen, of course, that was all too real.

He hadn't dreamt about Sherlock's death for almost a full year. The nightmares sort of left him once Kendal entered his life.

Well, to be fair, Kendal had always been a part of his life, ever since that day thirteen years ago when he told William Evans that he would be the godfather to his daughter.

It all started around a year and two months ago when he received the invitation to William's funeral, and the letter reminding him that Kendal was now in his keeping. At the time, John was planning on being one of the worst caretakers in all of humanity. He simply couldn't take care of another human being, he didn't have it in him. The death of his detective seemed to suck the life out of him. Then, when he attending the funeral (which was in a garden) he found his goddaughter hidden from the crowd, crying into the shoulder of her friend. That image seemed to awaken something inside of him; something that told him that Kendal also hurt. He knew it wasn't right to abandon her.

Kendal, in a twisted way, was his miracle. She missed her father, that was obvious. But she was somewhat optimistic and thoughtful. Her sense of humor was (to be frank) weird and she was dramatic, but all that suited her: She wasn't a normal thirteen year old girl. She thought things through, her morals were strong. She was prone to using metaphors and hyperboles. It was fitting that the thing she loved to do most was perform. She played the guitar, acted in her school's plays and musicals, and, of course, sang like a canary.

Whenever somebody referred to John as Kendal's "father" she always corrected them. Which was understandable; John wasn't her father and she wasn't his daughter. But sometimes it simply hurt when someone was reminded that John wasn't her dad.

John rolled over on his stomach as his thoughts turned to Sherlock. For the past few weeks, a sense of anticipation had settled in the pit of his stomach that all centered around the consulting detective. He had no idea why.

Kendal held a quiet respect for John's deceased detective. She never used his armchair. She never asked about him, but when John wanted to talk, she wanted to listen.

In an odd way, it was as if Sherlock was still there. But had, at the same time, never existed.

oOo

John's alarm sounded far to early for his liking. Groggily, he climbed out of bed and prepared for the day.

He started walking from his bedroom to the kitchen. The sound of distant singing told him that Kendal was awake.

Just before he entered, the lyrics of her song caught his attention:

_So lately, been wondering_

_Who will be there to take my place_

_When I'm gone, you'll need love_

_To light the shadows on your face_

He stopped and made sure Kendal couldn't see him. If she knew he was listening, he would silence her voice like she always did when she thought he could hear her.

_If a great wave shall fall_

_It'd fall upon us all_

_And between the sand and stone_

_Could you make it on your own?_

Was she singing about HIM? Was she wondering John could make it on HIS own? He'd be lying if he said that he didn't dread the inevitable day when Kendal would leave to persue her dreams, he dreaded being alone. He had, in a lot of ways, been alone for most of his life. But the alone that set in when Sherlock died was the worst alone he had ever been. Kendal was the only person, or the only THING, that made him feel human.

_If I could, then I would_

_I'll go wherever you will go_

_Way up high or down low_

_I'll go wherever you will go._

John sighed. Kendal, hearing him, stopped immediately.

"Morning, John." She said as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning, Kendal." He answered. "That song you just sang..."

"You heard that?"

"Yes. Where did you hear it?"

"It's called "Wherever You Will Go." It's an old song that dad liked. It was one of his favorites, that was, surprisingly, not by Iron and Wine."

John laughed just slightly. Kendal smiled.

"So...why that one?"

Kendal shrugged. "I've been thinking about the lyrics, I guess. It kind of came to me. I don't really know, most of the time I've got hundreds of songs bouncing around my mind. Some just find their ways to my lips more often than others do."

John nodded.

"How did it sound?" She asked suddenly, nervously twisting a lock of her long, brown hair.

"Your voice?" John asked, to clarify. Kendal nodded. "Beautiful."

Kendal's blue eyes lit like lamps and she smiled. "Thanks, John. I hope Mr. LePort thinks the same. Auditions for the Fall musical are on Friday!"

"Can you really get a song and monologue audition-ready in four days?" John asked.

"It would be difficult if you ignore the fact that I've been perfecting "On My Own" from Les Misérables since I was eleven! Let's face it; Eponine will always be the voice of a lovesick generation whose hearts want for nothing but the love they've craved since they were very young." She sighed. "Those who anxiously await each little fall of rain."

Kendal loved Les Misérables and one of her biggest dreams was to meet Samantha Barks.

"I've been waiting to audition with "On My Own", seeing as it's my third favorite song in the entire world. I want my voice to deserve the song."

There was silence between the two of them.

"You yelled for Sherlock again last night." Kendal said, her voice quiter.

John glanced up at her. She dropped her gaze.

"I'd better go, I'm meeting Victor before class starts." She said, wishing she hadn't mentioned Sherlock.

She left the flat in a hurry, wanting to punch herself. Why, WHY had she mentioned him? She knew that she would never be a sufficient replacement for Sherlock, so why did she have to torture her godfather, the greatest man she'd ever known?

More importantly, why had Sherlock Holmes left John, when he knew better than anyone how alone he would be?

A part of Kendal wanted to hate Sherlock Holmes for making her godfather, someone who she cared about (and hoped cared about her), grieve for so long. But she knew that her hatred was misguided. The only person who Kendal hated was herself for being so confused.

oOo

3:20 PM

Sherlock Holmes entered flat 221B, breathing in the smell of home he had craved for three years. It was good to be back.

He had seen 221B from a distance several times over the past years, but he was always heavily disguised and silent.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he entered his home.

Everything, for the most part, was as he remembered, except neater. He strolled over to his armchair (which was stiff and cold from lack of use) and tried to think of some way to tell John (who was, apparently, out of the flat) that he was...back.

Sherlock leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the thoughts to flow the through his mind. How he missed this while he was untangling Moriarity's web.

Ten minutes later, he heard someone climbing the stairs to the flat. He sat up immediately. John was home.

Or...maybe it wasn't John. If it was, then John had developed a very melodic voice, and was singing Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know".

Probably not John.

Then...who was it?

The door opened and a young girl, around the age of thirteen with grey-blue eyes and brown hair reaching her waist, entered the flat.

"Hi." She said, hesitantly.

Sherlock, how had been silently deducing her, nodded.

"Are you...in the right flat?" She asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"Okay...are you a friend of Dr. Watson's?"

Sherlock, after a moment of consideration, nodded for the third time.

"Oh...alright. I'll-"

"Acoustic or electric?"

"Pardon me?"

"Acoustic or electric guitar? Which do you play?"

"Acoustic. But, how did you-"

"Callouses on your fingertips." He said, pointing to her left hand.

"Oh. Excuse me for a minute." She quickly left the room.

oOo

"John," Kendal quietly spoke into the phone thirty seconds later, after locking herself in her bedroom. "There's someone in our flat who I'm pretty sure is insane."

"Kendal, slow down-"

"I came into the flat and someone who bears a striking resemblance to Sherlock Holmes was in our flat."

"Who did he say he was?"

"Sherlock Holmes, which is why I think he's insane. I mean...Sherlock's gone."

"What else did he say?"

"He asked me if I played the acoustic or electric guitar."

"How did he-"

"Well, to be fair, the callouses on my fingertips kind of scream "guitarist.""

"I...I'm coming home. Just wait for me."

oOo

John entered the flat, and saw Kendal and-

"Sherlock..." He breathed.

"John..." Sherlock said, seeming relieved.

"Wait, what?" Kendal asked, her voice sounding confused. "Sherlock fell from a building-"

"Oh, God why do I have to keep EXPLAINING this, normal people are so-"

"Wait-" John stopped Sherlock's rant and turned to Kendal. "You see him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"So I'm not imagining this! You're alive!"

Sherlock sighed, giving that look that John had been missing for three years.

"Wait, we don't know if this whole thing is legit." Kendal said, the nervous confusion leaving her voice.

"Soprano." Sherlock stated. "You're a soprano."

"What?" Kendal asked, turning from John to the detective. "What are you-"

"Soprano, guitarist and young actress, I'm guessing?"

"You never guess." John reminded him.

"No, I don't. You're an actress."

"How did you-"

"It's all obvious, Miss Watson."

"Miss Evans_."_ Kendal corrected him. "My name is Kendal _Evans_."

Sherlock noticed the hurt look on John's face.

"Oh...goddaughter." Sherlock said, realization creeping into his voice.

Kendal nodded. "So, what's obvious?"

"It obvious that performance is a shameless part of your everyday life. You are wearing a treble clef around your neck, after all."

Kendal glanced down at the glittering treble clef pendant that hung from a silver chain. It was a gift from John for her thirteenth birthday.

"Oh...well." Kendal said. "I'm going to work on my audtion." As she left the room, she gave John a look that clearly said: 'You have a lot of explaining to do.'

Sherlock looked at his blogger fondly. "So-"

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING?" John yelled.

"John-"

"YOU'VE BEEN ALIVE FOR THREE YEARS-I'VE BEEN- DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH, YOU NEVER CALLED, YOU NEVER THOUGHT TO-"

"John, listen to me! If I hadn't jumped, you would have died! Moriarity had assassins targeting you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestraude-"

"Well, aren't you noble!" John said, his voice still dripping with anger. "You didn't even think that-"

"I haven't gone a day without thinking about you for three years, John!"

His words stopped John. The doctor turned, his eyes suspicious.

"What do you-"

"I wanted to talk to you, but...I've been pulling apart his web. Moriarity's web."

"But-"

"I-I'm sorry, John."

John said nothing.

"Please forgive me, John." Sherlock said pleadingly.

John nodded, slowly. Sherlock was expecting a warmer welcome, but took what he received.

oOo

John didn't get his chance to talk to Kendal until evening had fallen. He found her in her bedroom, still slaving over "On My Own."

"Kendal," he said, grabbing her attention. She had fallen into that incredible state where she was so lost in the music that nothing else mattered, reality was lost and Kendal was buried in Eponine's bittersweet lament. It nearly killed John to take her out of that zone.

"There's a dead man in our flat." Kendal said, waking herself from the lyrics.

"Yes, that's-"

"How is that possible?"

"He faked his death-"

"How is that possible?"

"He's a genius, Kendal."

"So he's been alive for the past three years? He never thought to call, or say something to you?"

John nodded.

"And you're going to forgive him?" There was something in Kendal's voice and written on her face that was...he didn't quite know what it was.

"Kendal, he's...remember when you and Victor were going to audition with that duet for the Spring musical?"

"And he ditched me at the last minute, I remember." Kendal sighed.

"But you forgave him."

"Because he's been my best friend for my entire life, and I can't really imagine my life without him." Kendal sighed again, realizing John's position. "Okay, then."

oOo

Sherlock's first real conversation with Kendal didn't occur until the next day. She came home two hours before John did. Sherlock was (to no one's surprise) incredibly bored.

"Hey." Kendal said awkwardly.

Sherlock said nothing. Kendal shrugged indifferently as she sat in John's armchair and pulled out a notebook and pencil. She wasn't exactly happy about having an poem for English due on the day of her audition.

"Sherlock, if I asked you something, would you give me an honest opinion?"

Sherlock, after a moment's consideration, nodded.

"Do you think 'Demons' is too dark of a title for an eighth grade English assignment?"

"The correct question, Kendal, is whether or not the assignment is deserving of the title. Explain 'Demons'."

"I'm not discussing the mythological beings, but I'm trying to make Demons a metaphor for the burdens and worries of the modern citizen. I'm essentially using demons as a synonym for worries."

"Go on."

"I...I guess...the best people bring out the worst demons. When you find someone who you care about, you worry for them. That worry becomes a demon. The only way to keep demons out of your life is if you live without caring about anything or anyone. Everybody has demons, but I've noticed that people who acknowledge their demons are happier."

Sherlock's mind raced under her words. Could things be created without the mind's consent?

"I don't think it's dark. Surreal, maybe, but not too dark." Sherlock said finally.

"Thanks."

"Also, not everybody has demons." Sherlock said, as if to assure himself that he was living a demon-less life.

"Yes, they do. And don't even try to say that you don't, because I know that you do."

"How so?"

"I certainly like to think that you care about John. Your worry for him is, in the plainest form, a demon."

"I don't think John had to be brought into this."

"Sure, he didn't." Kendal muttered, turning back to her paper.

"Excuse me?"

"You broke him." Kendal said, looking Sherlock in the eyes. "You broke him and he forgave you. I hope you realize how rare that is."

Sherlock turned away from Kendal, re-entering his mind. Kendal, indifferent once again, went back to her poem.

oOo

On Thursday morning, Sherlock received a text. Kendal and John were both out of the flat.

It read:

_Down the long narrow hall he was led. Into her room with_ _the tapestries red._

Sherlock looked down at the text, not sure what to think. His mind had been so clouded with trying to figure out 'demons' that he wasn't thinking strait.

"Down the long, narrow hall he was led..." He muttered.

oOo

Kendal came home from school and saw Sherlock staring at a piece of paper reading:

_Down the long narrow hall he was led. Into her room with the tapestries_ _red_.

"Those are lyrics." Kendal said. She felt guilty about how she and Sherlock got off and wanted to make sure he knew that she wasn't an awful human.

"From which song?" Sherlock asked eagerly.

"The Queen and the Solider by Suzanne Vega." Kendal said.

Sherlock grabbed his laptop (or John's, whichever was closest.) and googled "The Queen and the Solider." After reading the lyrics, he looked to Kendal.

"Go." He said simply.

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me about the song."

Kendal spoke after a moment's consideration. "Well, she's a young queen ruling alone. Something must have happened to her husband or father-"

"Kendal, I gathered that. I need your help with the emotional component. Emotions aren't my forte."

"Well...this is coming from years upon years of singing and listening to the song, but, I'm thinking that the queen is powerless, despite the fact that she's the queen. War rules her kingdom. She knows that her soldiers are fighting a losing battle. She wants them off of the battlefield, but no one will listen to her. She's given up on emotions because they hurt too much. The solider comes to her speaking of desertion. He's confronting he before he goes. He expects to be speaking to a stone-hearted monster, and instead he finds a young woman who is just as powerless as he is. He still wants to tell her how he feels, though, and he does. He's taken by surprise by how vulnerable she is and falls in love with her. The queen, because the solider is the only person who speaks to her kindly and respects her mind, falls for him. But he's dragged up so many emotions that hurt her so badly that she kills him. Facing her emotions hurt much more than being alone did. She doesn't want to kill him, but she knows that it's the only way that she can return to the life of solitude that she doesn't want, but thinks she needs."

Kendal took a breath, finally stopping her speech.

"Oh...lyrics." Sherlock said, more confused than ever. Now he had THIS to ponder on top of Demons.

"The song itself is gorgeous, if you think about it. Suzanne Vega knows what she's doing. I think I might sing it for my final A.M.T assignment of the year."

"A.M.T?"

"Advanced Musical Theory. It's a class at my school that only students with brilliant musical potential are allowed to take. My best friend, Victor, and I are both in it. We're designated duet partners for life. We made a pact."

Sherlock nodded, resolving to delete some of this conversation at a later time.

oOo

The next morning, Kendal was in the bathroom in front of the mirror, preparing for her audition after school and listening to Amanda Seyfreid's "Little House."

She smiled at the sweet melody and sang along:

_I love this place  
But it's haunted without you  
My tired heart  
Is beating so slow_

_Our hearts sing less than  
We wanted, we wanted  
Our hearts sing 'cause  
We do not know, we do not know_

_To light the night, to help us grow  
To help us grow  
It is not said, I always know_

Kendal took a breath and prepared for the bridge and final chorus:

_You can catch me  
Don't you run, don't you run  
If you live another day  
In this happy little house  
The fire's here to stay_

_To light the night, to help us grow  
To help us grow  
It is not said, I always know_

_Please don't make a fuss, it won't go away  
The wonder of it all  
The wonder that I made  
I am here to stay_

_I am here to stay_

_Stay._

Kendal heard a cough from behind the half-closed door. Someone had been listening.

_Crap._ Kendal thought as she opened the door and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"It's impolite to eavesdrop, you know." She said, curling a lock of her hair with her curling iron and trying to sound indifferent.

"My apologies." Sherlock said. Kendal sighed as she sprayed her hair with hairspray.

"You know," she said when the chemical fog had cleared the air, "that song has a violin part."

"Your point?"

"You play the violin, I play the guitar. If you're ever bored out of your mind, I'm available for a quick song."

Sherlock half-smiled.

"So, any cases yet? Wait, if you were on a case, you wouldn't be talking to me."

"Why?"

"Only while enduring extreme boredom would you deign to speak to me."

"No, about the case."

"John told me that when you were on a case, you shut everything and everyone else out, except for your dear blogger."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah. Whenever he would talk about you, it wasn't about the detectivey stuff. It was always about the human side of you." Kendal said, applying a thin layer of mascara.

"Oh...like what?"

"How you treated Mrs. Hudson like she was your mother, or how...oh, never mind."

"No, go on."

"It wasn't really important."

"Kendal, tell me."

"How you were his best friend." Kendal half-smiled.

"He said I was his best friend?"

"I'll be honest, at first I thought he was only saying it for the sake of being kind."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a great human being."

"Oh..."

"Excuse me?"

"If he's a 'great human being' then why do you...shut him out?"

"I don't shut anyone out-"

"Yes, you do, and it hurts him. Every time he tries to make you feel loved you run away and bury yourself in music. For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve-"

"You're accusing me of hurting someone because I didn't cozy up to them after my FATHER'S death?"

"Last I checked, John was your fatherly figure."

"John isn't my father!"

"He's the closest thing you've got, and I'd start accepting it because your real one isn't coming back,"

Kendal looked ready to cry. Sherlock's heart, to his utter horror, shuddered.

"Look, Kendal-"

"No." She said. "You've said enough. I'll see you after my audition." She left the flat.

Sherlock sighed, his emotions tangling in a way he couldn't decipher. For the first time in his life, he felt guilty. _Guilty_!

oOo

2:30 PM. Sherlock received a text from Mycroft.

Welcome back, brother. Are you interested in saving the nation?

Sherlock, desperate to pull himself from this pit of boredom and guilt, left in a hurry.

oOo

Sherlock entered the flat two hours later-

Oh, God.

Kendal was standing stiffly in the center of the flat, her face stained with tears and fear. Her hands were tied behind her back. A surge of fear assaulted Sherlock.

Jim Moriarity was holding a gun to her head.

"You're-" Sherlock stuttered. He wasn't real, he COULDN'T be real, he was dead, he shot himself-

"If Sherlock Holmes can fake his death, so can his superiors." Moriarity drawled. "Also, welcome back to the world of the living. How's John? I know how Kendal is-"

Kendal sniffed and allowed a sob to escape her.

"She's been like this since I pulled the gun out." Moriarity stage-whispered.

"So destroying me is still the plan?"

"It's cute really, first you think that my web is unraveled, then you allow your emotionless shell to be taken by a little girl with a guitar. You hurt because of her. She confuses you, doesn't she? Drags up emotions you tried to bury."

"Down the long, narrow hall he was led..." Sherlock muttered.

"Into her room with the tapestries red." Moriarity finished, laughter laced in between every syllable. "I thought you'd figure it out, the clue in the song. But how does it end? What happens with the queen and her dear solider?" He turned to Kendal. "Sing the final verse, allow the story to be finished."

Kendal took a few shaky breaths before her broken voice rang out:

"Out in the distance her order was heard. And the solider was killed, still waiting for her word. While the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred, the battle continued on."

"And I'm answering your order, your majesty." Moriarity chuckled. "Destroying your demon."

His words were like a fatal blow.

"You're a coward." Sherlock spat.

"Hm?"

"Going after a child instead of facing me."

"I don't play by the rules, Sherlock." Moriarity laughed. He walked back to Kendal and pressed the gun into her temple.

"Tell John that...I love him." Kendal choked out.

"Yes, tell your boyfriend that his baby girl loves him." Moriarity said, rolling his eyes.

"That's hitting below the belt, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked, trying to buy time. His mind raced, how could he save Kendal?

"No..." Kendal said. "This is."

Quickly, she kicked her heel up, hitting Moriarity...where it hurt the most. With an unnaturally human cry of pain, he fell to his knees. Kendal harshly elbowed him in between the eyes and the consulting criminal dropped his weapon. Kendal kicked it to the other side of the room.

"Call the police." Kendal told Sherlock. The detective, thanking each of his lucky stars, did as he was told.

oOo

It wasn't until the police came and left when Kendal went into shock.

"Oh my God..." She said, her voice shaking. "Oh my God, I almost died." She clutched the treble clef pendant, tears falling from her eyes. "I could have died..."

"Kendal," Sherlock said, panic attacking him as it attacked Kendal. "Kendal, it's fine, you're fine..."

Kendal grabbed the Union Jack pillow and held it to her chest, her shoulders shaking. Sherlock grabbed a blanket from the nearest chair and draped it over her shoulders, trying to be as comforting as he possibly could.

"What the-" John's voice was heard moments later. "Kendal, what happened?"

"Moriarity is alive, he came into our flat and almost killed Kendal." Sherlock e explained quickly. Kendal's sobs doubled in in quantity.

John ran out of the room, and came back ten seconds later, holding a dark blue iPod. He sat by Kendal, scrolling through the music library. Eventually, he found the song he had been looking for:

_ Love and Some Verses, by: Iron and Wine._

Her breath calmed slightly at the intro, and throughout the verses, stopped crying. Sherlock watched in awe.

"You feel okay?" John asked Kendal. She nodded.

"Sort of." She said weakly. "Iron and Wine is practically therapy in song."

"It's like you told me, Samuel Beam is a lyrical genius."

Kendal laughed ever so slightly. "Thanks, John."

John nodded.

"Hey, I love you." She said, almost awkwardly, shooting Sherlock a look that said: Who's shutting him out, now? Sherlock rolled his eyes, and without realizing it, added Kendal to his list of demons.

**So, there's the first chapter! Please review, even if you hated this. And, if you did hate it, please tell me! It might lead to a complete re-write.**

**Kendal is a character I created, everything else is all Moffat's. I should probably explain the title, Demons, I hope, is self-explanatory. Nutella will come in later. Most of the following chapters (if there are any) will be following Kendal as she grows up, learns things, teaches things, and so on. I apologize for the lack of post-fall angst, but I wanted the focus of this one to be Kendal's relationship with John and Sherlock. I promise that there will more humor (a sick fic might be in the near future!) and the short stories just be a series of fun little things that I write when my mind demands that an idea be made real. Also, if you have a request for a short sTory subject, leave it in reviews! It might show up in a chapter!**

**Please, please Review! Even if it's to tell me that this is terrible and you hate Kendal and my account should burn. **

**Love and Some Verses,**

**ThespiansKC**


	2. Victor

"Bored." Sherlock moaned.

Kendal sighed and sat down her script, facing the reality that, until John returned, she would have to deal with a bored Sherlock.

"It's been two weeks since anyone's near-death experience, don't you want some down time?"

"Why would I want to be bored?"

"Silly me." Kendal sighed. "Do you want tea or something?"

"Will tea violently murder someone and give me something to do?"

"If you add enough sugar, maybe." Kendal answered sarcastically.

"Kendal-"

"Okay, okay...I can't really empathize, I have a Tumblr, so I'm never bored."

"Tumblr?"

"Don't even try, it's like selling your soul. I suggest Pinterest. That's where Amy and I found a recipe for Nutella Cupcakes, which is my favorite food and Amy's favorite food in one."

"Your favorite food is Nutella?"

"It solves all the world's problems." Kendal stated wisely. "If Nutella and music could morph into one, I would never worry about anything for the rest of my life."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry you're bored, okay? I can't really provide a source of entertainment for you at this point; Victor's coming over to rehearse our duet."

"Victor?"

"Victor, my best friend and designated duet partner for life? I think I told you this the first day I met you."

"Must've-"

"Deleted it, I know. Well, as a recap, Victor is the pianist, Oliver is a fellow violinist, and Amy is a dancer. Also, when you meet her, try to be less...blunt. She has social anxiety. When she's in a room with unfamiliar people, she panics and can't breathe."

"Mmhmm."

Kendal shrugged and left John's armchair.

"Wait, so all of your friends are musically connected in some way?"

"You say this as if I have a life outside of my music." Kendal laughed humorlessly. "I've grown to accept that music is my boyfriend. And my car."

"I'm sure John would be glad to hear that."

"Well, it could change. Somewhere down the road there might be a handsome football player who- Sherlock?"

Sherlock had left the room.

oOo

"Hey, Victor." Kendal said twenty minutes later when Victor entered the flat, holding his Yamaha keyboard and sheet music folder.

"Hey, Ken." He answered. "Ready to DESTROY this duet?"

"Freak yeah!" Kendal accepted his enthusiastic high-five. "Let's do this!"

"There's going to be chunks of duet just scattered around your flat!"

Kendal laughed, grabbing her sheet music. "Musical massacre!"

Victor sat on the sofa, balancing the keyboard on this thighs so his hands could easily move across the keys.

"Are you ready?" He asked Kendal, his brown eyes full of determination.

"Oh, yeah." Kendal said. Victor laughed at her enthusiasm and started. Kendal used the intro as preparation time. Victor began:

_Lift up your head  
Wash off your mascara  
Here, take my Kleenex  
Wipe that lipstick away  
Show me your face, clean as the mornin'  
I know things were bad, but now they're okay_

Suddenly Seymour is standin' beside you  
You don't need no makeup, don't have to pretend  
Suddenly Seymour is here to provide you  
Sweet understanding  
Seymour's your friend

Kendal took a breath and began her verse:

_Nobody ever treated me kindly  
Daddy left early  
Mama was poor  
I'd meet a man and I'd follow him blindly  
He'd snap his fingers  
Me, I'd say "sure."_

_Suddenly Seymour is standin' beside me  
He don't give me orders  
He don't condescend  
Suddenly Seymour is here to provide me  
Sweet understanding  
Seymour's my friend_

(Victor:)

_Tell_ _me this feelin'll last till forever  
Tell me_ the bad times _are clean washed away_

(Kendal:)

_Please understand that it's still strange and fright'nin'  
For losers like I've been it's so hard to say_

_Suddenly Seymour,  
He purified me  
Suddenly Seymour  
He showed me I can  
Learn how to be more  
The girl that's inside me  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
Seymour's my man!_

Both:

_Suddenly Seymour,  
He purified you  
Suddenly Seymour  
Yes, you can  
Learn how to be more  
The girl that's inside you  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
With sweet understanding,  
Seymour's your man_

Victor's hands left the keys.

"I still can't believe Mr. LePort chose _Little Shop of Horrors_." Kendal commented._  
_

"I saw him carrying the man-eating plant backstage."

Kendal laughed. "I can't wait!"

"We open in...a week, isn't it?"

"Yes, this Friday." Kendal looked nervous. "Your hair looks nice." She said quickly, changing the subject. "You should keep it long like that. Your Elijah Wood curls are gorgeous."

Victor laughed. "Thanks, Ken. You know, you shouldn't be scared about opening night. You're going to be amazing."

Kendal tried to smile. "I've made a lot of mistakes onstage."

"You psych yourself out. You just need to let you. You'll be fine. More than fine, you're going to be fabulous."

Sherlock stepped into the room.

"Known Kendal for eight years, two sisters-" Sherlock listed off Victor's characteristics. Victor turned quickly, his eyes widened. "You've liked Kendal as more than a friend since age eleven but at this point you're holding on to a blind hope. Kendal is obviously not interested but is either too kind or too obtuse to tell you. And, you take cello lessons every Thursday."

Victor stared, open-mouthed.

"Victor, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." Kendal said, her eyes murderous. "Sherlock, this is my best friend, Vic-" Sherlock left the room.

"Boring." He called as he left.

"I'll take that as my cue to go." Victor grabbed his keyboard. "Bye, Ken." He said, quickly exiting the flat.

"Sherlock," Kendal said, her temper about to explode as she walked to the consulting detective.

"I'm sensing you're angry."

"Of course I'm angry! He's my best friend, now I'll be lucky if he talks to me again."

"He will, because he's madly in love with you. God, I hate him."

"You don't even know him!" Kendal cried. "What on earth is so aggravating about him?"

"He calls you 'Ken'."

"So?"

"It makes you sound like an illness."

"I happen to like it." Kendal snapped, leaving the room.

Sherlock sighed. He wasn't exactly on John's good side at this point, what with the whole Kendal-almost-dying debacle and the him-not-really-being-dead debacle. The last thing he needed was his blogger angry.

oOo

"Kendal," Sherlock said, entering her room without knocking. "I brought you one of my world-famous Nutella surprises." he handed her tablespoon of Nutella.

"This is just a spoonful of Nutella." Kendal pointed out.

"Surprise!" Sherlock said, with what he must have thought was a winning smile. Kendal gave him a famous thirteen-year-old-girl death stare. "I thought it solved all the world's problems."

"Then you've managed to ruin two things today. Congrats." Kendal said sarcastically.

"Kendal," Sherlock said. "Victor won't desert you."

"Sure, he won't. God, after all these years, I've been friendzoning him. Even worse, I've been Marius-ing him!"

"Then who's your Cosette?"

"Ed Sheeran." Kendal answered.

"He's twice your age." Sherlock said, disapprovingly.

"I'm going to marry him." Kendal said defensively. "You really think he'll be okay?"

"He's in love with you-"

"No he's not-"

"You'll be fine...Ken."

Kendal shuddered. "No offense, but it sounds wrong when you say it."

Sherlock laughed, just slightly and left the room.

**There, readers, was chapter two! Yes, I created Victor and Amy and Oliver...I hope you all enjoyed that, though, if there are any of you...**

**#cats**

**Please review!**


	3. Suddenly

Kendal's eyes fluttered open. She glanced over at her alarm clock. 6:30. Why was she awake at six thirty A.M? Rolling her eyes, she rolled over on her left side-

_"Oh my God-"_ she almost screamed.

"Morning, Kendal."

Sherlock was at her bedside.

"What...the..._why in God's name are you in my room at six thirty in the morning?"_ Kendal asked, her breath still unstable. "And why do you have scissors?"

Sherlock looked away quickly. Kendal noticed the small amount of brown hair in his hand. She glanced down at her hair on the pillow, one lock was certainly two inches shorter.

"Sherlock-"

"It's for an experiment, and because I didn't want to wake you, I decided to-"

"Yes, you're very considerate." Kendal said.

"And I also wanted a follicle," Sherlock took a silver pair of tweezers and pulled a single hair from her scalp.

"Ow!" Kendal complained. "You know, you could have asked me."

"No, I couldn't have."

"Why not?"

"Because you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

Kendal sighed and covered her face with her pillow. "What day is it?" She asked, her voice muffled.

"Friday."

Kendal sighed. "Crap. Opening night."

"I thought you enjoyed being onstage."

"I do. But I have terrible stage fright. I've thrown up backstage a few times."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Overreaction."

"Have you ever- never mind, you'll just say something completely brilliant and make me feel like an inexperienced performer." Kendal reached to her bedside table and grabbed _The Hunger Games. _

"You aren't going back to sleep?"

"I'm too nervous to sleep." Kendal explained. "Are you coming tonight?"

"John and I have our tickets."

Kendal smiled. "Wonderful. Now, get out of my room."

oOo

Kendal walked up to the school, spotting Amy sitting below her favorite tree on the school grounds.

"Morning, Amy." Kendal said, sitting by her friend.

Amy looked up from her book. "Hey, Kendal." She said. "Almond?" She offered Kendal a nut.

"No, thanks." Kendal answered, looking queasy. "I'm close to throwing up my Nutella Waffles, anyway."

"John made you Nutella waffles?"

"God, I love him." Kendal said, looking less green. Suddenly, the school bell rang. The two girls stood and began to walk towards the doors.

"I'll be right in the front row tonight with Oliver." Amy assured Kendal, shaking the Autumn leaves out of her red hair.

"Thanks, Amy." Kendal said. The two went to their lockers on opposite sides of the hall.

"Hey, Kendal."

Kendal nearly dropped her heavy textbook, she was buried in her thoughts. She turned to see who the voice belonged to. She was shocked to see Tony Smith standing beside her locker.

"Hi, Tony." She said, feeling more nervous than ever.

"Mind if I walk you to your next class?" He asked.

"Sure." Kendal said, breathlessly.

"You're in the musical tonight, aren't you?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Cool. I'll be there."

"Oh...great." Seeing her classroom ahead, Kendal sighed inwardly.

"I'll see you around, Kendal." Tony said when they reached the door.

"Bye, Tony." She said, trying to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

She sighed, for real this time. Tony Smith walked her to class! Tony was the star of the rugby team, and a full year older than she was! Lots of girls in the school were after Tony, and Kendal saw why. That shiny, soft blonde hair that fell in cute, light curls and those perfect green eyes, the way he smiled, the way he talked, that smooth kindness to him...he could have walked any girl in the school to class, and he had chosen Kendal!

Kendal danced through her first few classes until lunch. She, Amy, Victor, and Oliver all ate at the balcony by the science room. The teachers allowed them to sit there because Amy almost passed out while eating on the grounds once; there were too many people around. That was when they were eleven, and Amy's social anxiety had improved greatly since then, but the four loved how the balcony overlooked the grounds and some of London, so they didn't mention it and continued to eat on the balcony.

"What's up with you?" Amy asked as soon as they sat down.

"Tony Smith walked me to class!" Kendal squealed.

"Oh my God!" Amy cried.

"Doesn't he have a girlfriend?" Victor interjected.

"He and Megan split a month ago." Amy said, rolling her brown eyes.

"Ooh, he's so dreamy..." Kendal sighed.

"I know." Amy agreed. "Those eyes, and that hair, ooh, I get chills!"

Oliver threw his sweater to Amy.

"What's your issue?" Amy asked him.

"Tony is a jock."

"Oliver-"

"I'm not forgetting the many times that I've been punched, kicked, that my head's been shoved down a toilet-"

"Tony's not like that." Kendal insisted. "He's sweet and compassionate-"

"Okay, okay." Oliver said. "He's an angel. I'm glad he likes you, too."

"Have you noticed those dimples?" Amy asked Kendal.

"Ooh, yes!" Kendal sighed. "He's just as attractive as...Enjorlas, from Les Misérables."

Amy agreed enthusiastically.

"Enjorlas died horribly." Victor reminded Kendal, though it sounded like he was reminding himself.

"Shut up, Victor!" Amy warned. Quickly, she turned back to Kendal. "Do you think he'll ask you out?"

"Amy, I'm only thirteen." Kendal sighed. "And he's a year older. John would never approve."

"Then you need to hold on to him! Next year, if he still likes you, there will be less of a difference between you two. You'll start dating, fall in love, you'll go off to star in _Wicked_, you'll grow apart, but years later, when he goes to see _The Phantom of the_ _Opera_, he'll see you as Kristine and fall in love all over again. He'll propose on opening night, you'll graciously accept, you'll live in a lovely flat...he'll play rugby while you play the guitar and live happily ever after."

Kendal smiled. "Perfect."

"And for the rest of your life, you'll be able to look across the breakfast table and see Tony, and count all the freckles gently rained across his face."

"Sounds wonderful." Kendal swooned. (actually swooned!) Victor fought an urge to vomit.

oOo

Kendal's heart beat faster than it normally did. She checked her phone. It was 6:28. She was going to be onstage in two minutes. The mobile vibrated in her hand, telling her that she had received a text from John:

Break a leg. Don't worry yourself, you'll be fine.

Kendal smiled ever so slightly and placed her black converse underneath the dressing room counter and left the dressing room.

"Break a leg, Ken." Victor whispered to her backstage.

"Thanks. Break a clavicle." Kendal whispered back.

"I'm proud of you, you haven't thrown up."

"Yet." Kendal admitted.

Victor laughed quietly.

oOo

"Do you know what I see behind all the makeup and haircuts? A good person...a person I respect." Victor (well, Seymour) said, sitting by Kendal (well, Audrey.)

Kendal lost herself in the role. She was no longer Kendal Evans. She wasn't the girl who lost her father and who like music too much. She was Audrey...and for a moment, nothing mattered. The audience sitting before her didn't matter. The stage she was on didn't matter. Tony, the handsome rugby player who might like her didn't matter. All that mattered was this conversation with Seymour, and that's all the song was. A conversation using music and not words.

Kendal sang her verse, and held nothing back because Audrey held nothing back. Her sudden burst of acting brilliance pleasantly surprised Victor, which in turn, made him try to do better. And try he did.

The performance didn't lose that sparkle, Kendal kept the presence until she took her bow. She left the stage happily, and went to the dressing room with the applause ringing in her ears.

oOo

Tony was waiting outside of the stage door.

"Hey, Kendal." He said, almost shyly.

"Oh...hello, Tony." Kendal said.

"You were really great, you know." He said.

Kendal, to her utter shame, giggled.

"You have a cute laugh." He said. "And...I brought you this...it's kind of cliche..." He handed her a bright red rose. "Mum said that you should bring an actress flowers."

"That's so sweet of you." Kendal said. Looking through the crowd, she saw John and Sherlock. "I should go. Thank you."

"Wait, Kendal," Tony handed her a piece of notebook paper. "That's my number." And Tony left, granting her a small smile as he walked away.

"Who was that boy?" Sherlock asked when Kendal approached him and John.

"Nobody." Kendal answered. "Nobody yet."

**I need to give John more lines. Well, I hope you enjoyed that! Please review, and if you have a suggestion for a short story or want to see Sherlock/Kendal/John, please tell me! I love a good suggestion. ❤**


	4. Chapter 4

"So...what's the story?"

"Left the theater last night during the second half of the show. His wife came back to see why he hadn't come back, she finds a gun in his hand and a bullet in his brain."

Sherlock walked around the body once more.

"Anything?" Lestraude asked him.

"It's obviously a suicide." Anderson stated.

"Shut up, Anderson." Sherlock sighed. "While that does seem like the only explanation."

"Sherlock," John reprimanded.

"So, you're saying I'm right." Anderson said boastingly.

"No, I'm saying you're explanation makes sense."

"So, I'm right."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Tell me about the victim."

"He was an insurance agent. He had a wife and two kids. A daughter, age ten, and a son, age seven."

"What show was he seeing?" Sherlock asked.

"His daughter was playing young Cosette in Les Misérables."

Sherlock sighed. Aboslutely nothing that proved Anderson wrong."

"I'll be right back." Sherlock said. "Come along, John." John left the hall with Sherlock.

"I know you don't want to admit this, but I think Anderson might be on to something."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "He can't be right, he's Anderson."

"Well, do you have a better idea?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered, pulling out his mobile.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm phoning Kendal."

"What? No, I'm not letting you-"

"Hello, Kendal dear." Sherlock said, cutting John off. "How are you...great, how was school...look, I need you to come somewhere for me. It concerns Les Misérables. Okay, you'll be right over? I'll text you the address. Be careful around those cabs."

John glared at his friend. "No."

"Pardon me?"

"I'm not allowing Kendal to see a dead body, that's unhealthy."

"She'll be fine."

"This kind of thing is TRAUMATIC, Sherlock!"

"Sure, you think Kendal's going to be traumatized by death? We are talking about the same Kendal, aren't we?"

"I know Kendal has seen a lot of death, and almost been killed once-"

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"Oh, did I not tell you? There was a slight debacle on Monday, a few criminals broke into our flat, there was a slight hostage situation, Kendal was almost stabbed, you know, normal stuff."

Kendal's entrance interrupted John's reply.

"What's up?" She asked. "Les Misérables needs me?"

"Badly." Sherlock said, leading Kendal back into the hall.

"Oh...a dead body. I thought you needed someone to play Eponine at a moment's notice...but no, this is just as good." Kendal said.

"You brought a kid?" Anderson and Donovan cried in perfect unison.

"Sherlock-" Lestraude said, his voice full of disapproval.

"Oh, don't fret, you three. This is Kendal."

Kendal waved politely and turned to Sherlock. "So, what do you need from me?"

"A man found dead during Les Misérables."

"He went to use the loo and killed himself, can we just leave it at that?" Anderson asked, frustrated.

"Ooh..." Kendal said. "I have to disagree."

"What?"

"Because Les Misérables helps people appreciate life. Especially after seeing a yoman woman and child die."

There was silence.

"Was it during intermission?" Kendal asked.

"No, it was during the second act."

"Oh...he would not have left to use the loo during the second act, because that's when everything gets interesting. What scene did leave during?"

"His wife said that he left after Valjean went to the barricade. Whatever that means."

"Then...he left after Gavroche's death."

"Gavroche?"

"A young boy, a child, who died in the June Rebellion." Kendal peered around the body. "There's a tissue in his hand. He left because he was crying."

"It was a murder..." Sherlock breathed. "It was a murder!"

"No it wasn't, there was a gun in his hand."

"His finger isn't on the trigger. The gun was planted so it would look like a suicide. And he has a son, a seven year old son...Gavroche reminded him of his child, he left the theater to cry, he was shot."

Anderson rolled his eyes. "So you got another one right."

Sherlock nodded curtly. "I'll see what I can do about who the murderer was. You're welcome. Come along, you two."

Kendal and John left the hall with Sherlock.

"So...years of watching Les Misérables has paid off." John muttered.

"You were brilliant." Sherlock told Kendal.

"Thanks." Kendal answered.

"Which reminds me, you were almost killed? Again?" John asked, turning towards his goddaughter.

"I told you he would spontaneously combust." Sherlock muttered to Kendal.

John looked at the two of them, his stare similar to that of a stern parents whose two children were in trouble.

"Looks like we have explaining to do."

**So...that was Chapter 4! I hope you all enjoyed Anderson being schooled by a young girl. Please review if you loved/hated this chapter. If you have a suggestion for a short story, please tell me. I wish you all a wonderful day! ❤**


	5. Winter Song

_Kendal slowly turned the page of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, her hands shaking as Rowling described the sound of Hermione's scream as Bellatrix tortured her. The sound of her phone ringing woke her from the story. _

_"Hey." She said, answering the mobile. Kyle, her father's best friend, had called her. Kendal couldn't figure out why, her father should have met Kyle at the restaurant twenty minutes ago. Maybe dad was late getting there; it was a rainy evening, so a lot of people would be wanting cabs._

_"Kendal," Kyle said, sounding pained. "Kendal, something has happened to your father."_

_Kendal blinked. "What happened?"_

_"Kendal..." She could hear Kyle fighting tears. "Kendal, your father's cab wrecked."_

_"Oh my God..." Kendal gasped. "Is he okay?"_

_"The crash killed him...I'm sorry, Kendal. I'll be right over."_

_Kendal pushed her book aside, no longer caring about Hermione's screams or Dobby's dying words. Her father was dead...how would she ever live without her father?_

_A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Kendal ran to the door. A tearful Kyle greeted her._

_"Kendal," he said, taking her in his arms. "I'm so sorry."_

_Kendal shut her eyes tightly. Tears forced their way past her eyelids. _

_Her father was gone._

Kendal woke. She sat up and tried to calm her breath. As if the memory of that night wasn't enough.

Kendal rested her chin on her knees, wiping her tears on the sheets. It had been almost a year since her father had died, and so much had changed since then. Kslowly tightly grasped the treble clef pendant on her necklace.

Who was she kidding? Everything had changed.

oOo

Saturday, 1:00 PM

Kendal stared out the window in her bedroom. She couldn't shake the memory of the dream from her mind. If she were Sherlock, she could just delete it. But sadly, she was a normal human with a normal brain. She had to live with the memory.

She shivered, Autumm was ending, Winter would eventually take London.

Kendal slowly picked up her guitar and slid the capo on to the first fret.

_This is my winter song to you  
The storm is coming soon  
It rolls in from the sea_

_My voice, a beacon in the night  
My words will be your light  
To carry you to me_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love  
alive?_

_They say that things just cannot grow  
Beneath the winter snow  
Or so I have been told_

_They say we're buried far  
Just like a distant star  
I simply cannot hold_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_This is my winter song  
December never felt so wrong  
Cause you're not where you belong  
Inside my arms_

_This is my winter song to you  
The storm is coming soon  
It rolls in from the sea_

_My voice, a beacon in the night  
My words will be your light  
To carry you to me_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love  
alive?_

_They say that things just cannot grow  
Beneath the winter snow  
Or so I have been told_

_They say we're buried far  
Just like a distant star  
I simply cannot hold_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_This is my winter song  
December never felt so wrong  
Cause you're not where you belong  
Inside my arms_

_I still believe in summer days  
The seasons always change  
And life will find a way_

_I'll be your harvester of light  
And send it out tonight  
So we can start again_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_This is my winter song  
December never felt so wrong  
Cause you're not where you belong  
Inside my arms_

_This is my winter song to you  
The storm is coming soon  
It rolls in from the sea_

_My love a beacon in the night  
My words will be your light  
To carry you to me_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

_Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?  
Is love alive?_

Kendal's fingers left the strings.

"It's a bit early for a Winter song, isn't it?"

Kendal nearly dropped her guitar in surprise.

"God, Sherlock..." She sighed. "You should really warn a person before you-"

"Yes, my habits are hateful, you tell me that at least once every day." Sherlock entered her room.

"By all means, come in." Kendal muttered.

"You're acting strange. Stranger than normal, mind you."

"So are you. When did you start caring about how I'm acting?" Kendal's eyes narrowed. "You're bored, aren't you?"

"Incredibly so." Sherlock answered. "But the subject remains, you're acting strangely."

"I guess I am." Kendal shrugged her shoulders.

"Did Victor propose?"

"No. And he never will."

"Then what's going on?"

Kendal sighed. "I didn't sleep really well last night."

"Due to..?"

"I had this...weird dream."

"Kendal, we've been over this: your dreams cannot tell the future."

"No, it wasn't a prophecy. It was...never mind, it's stupid."

"Kendal, I'm bored out of my skull." Sherlock complained.

Kendal continued, knowing that Sherlock would start shooting the wall.

"It was...about my dad." She said quietly.

"John?"

"John isn't my dad." Kendal said. "My real father...the night he died."

"Oh..." Sherlock was beginning to regret starting the conversation.

"And the song reminds me of him...I don't know why."

Kendal looked out the window again.

_Is love alive?_

"You...uh...have a nice voice." Sherlock said, changing the subject.

_Is love alive?_

**Sorry about the short chapter. Please review, though! I love you all dearly! Please, PLEASE request things to write about, even if you think your idea is ridiculous. Have a wonderful day!❤❤❤❤**_  
_


	6. Duet

**Hey, this one was a requested idea! Please enjoy!**

"Kendal, I'm bored." Sherlock moaned.

"Hello to you, too." Kendal answered as she entered the flat. "How long has it been since you've hard a case?"

"A week and three days."

Kendal sighed. "Well, it just so happens that I brought you something." She handed him a piece of sheet music.

"Sheet music?"

"For Ed Sheeran's_ Give Me Love_." Kendal added. "I could play the guitar, you could play the violin, it'd be fantastic!"

"Fantastic wasn't the first word that came to my mind." Sherlock muttered.

"It's better than being bored, isn't it?" Kendal pointed out, her eyebrows raised wisely. "I'll go get my guitar."

oOo

"You've heard the song, haven't you?" Kendal asked, setting her chord sheet on her music stand.

"Yes." Sherlock answered.

"Brilliant. Ready?"

Sherlock nodded. Kendal slid her capo onto the third fret of her guitar and began:

_Give me love like her,_

_'Cause lately I've been waking up alone,_

_Pain splattered teardrops on my shirt,_

_Told you I'd let them go,_

_And that I'll fight my corner,_

_Maybe tonight I'll call you,_

_After my blood turns into alcohol,_

_No, I just wanna hold you,_

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, give me love,_

_Give me love like never before,_

_'Cause lately I've been craving more,_

_And it's been a while but I still feel the same,_

_Maybe I should let you go,_

_You know I'll fight my corner,_

_And that tonight I'll call you_

_After my blood is drowning in alcohol,_

_No, I just wanna hold you_

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

Kendal was silent for a moment, remembering how the bridge included low notes that her soprano voice couldn't-

Sherlock was...singing.

Kendal nearly dropped her guitar. Sherlock could sing? She continued playing the chords as Sherlock's deep, melodic voice captured the low notes Kendal couldn't hit.

When the bridge ended, Sherlock's voice tackled the low harmonies as Kendal sang the melody.

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love..._

_Give me love_

Kendal's fingers left the guitar strings as she stared up at Sherlock.

"Oh my God..."

"What?"

"You sang! You can sing!"

"No, Kendal-"

"Did you get really bored one of these days and take vocal lessons? Is there anything you can't do?"

"Not answering that."

"Oh, no. You can't just inflict your voice upon me and then expect me to not have questions. I won't stop bugging you until you tell me what's going on."

"Look, I just sang...okay?"

"Is it a genetic thing? Did you take lessons?"

"It's just something that I have the ability to do, I just don't flaunt it."

"You can sing without flaunting it. It's nice to see you not flaunt something for once."

"Keep your voice down!"

"Well, you couldn't keep _your_ voice down! You have a gift!"

Sherlock started to leave the room.

"Wait, Sherlock," Kendal said. Sherlock turned. "I'm sorry, this is just...a lot to take in. You don't come across as the singing type." She opened her eyes widely, giving him a pleading look, the look she gave her father or Victor when she wanted something. "I'll keep it quiet. It'll be our secret." She smiled. "Agreed?"

"Agreed."

They didn't notice John standing in the doorway, who was just as baffled as Kendal.

John didn't mention Sherlock's voice, neither did Kendal. But every few weeks, when Sherlock was bored, Kendal borrowed violin music from Oliver and brought it home.

**This chapter is dedicated to Mr. Ed Sheeran, who I love dearly. ❤❤❤❤❤❤**

**Please review and request❤**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Hey, my darlings! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but I have had severe writer's block for the past three million years. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy this incredibly short chapter.

oOo

"Maybe they're on to something."

Kendal's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Kendal, you're smart. If you became a scientist or a lawyer, you could change the world."

"Music changes the world." Kendal pointed out.

"Kendal, you realize that you could get into almost any university if you keep getting marks like these."

"I don't want to go to a university. I might at some point, but when I finish school I want to go somewhere I've never been, not as a tourist, but just to be there. Maybe I'll go to Spain, or Paris, somewhere where I can think and figure out who I am. I want to change someone's life with music. I want to act, maybe I'll write a book, who knows? But I want to see the world, I want to know the world, because I feel like if I know the world, I'll know myself. Then my performance life will be easier because I won't have to worry about losing myself in a role."

"Trips to Paris aren't exactly cheap." John pointed out.

Kendal blinked. She didn't like bringing up the (rather large) amount of money that her father had left to her, but John knew as well as she did that it was more than enough to cover the cost of a (however long) visit to Spain or Paris.

"Look, John, the cost isn't really important." She said. "It's kind of...covered."

"Just because you can take an Eat-Pray-Love journey doesn't mean you should."

"I know, but it's the future that I want. It's the one that doesn't make me a slave to a routine, it's the one with music. And don't try to tell me that music isn't important."

"Kendal-"

"Being a lawyer, or a doctor, even a consulting detective is a noble profession and I'm grateful to those that are doctors or lawyers, but that's not who I am! That's not what I want for myself."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Kendal wondered what had brought her to this point, what had cause her first argument with John?

Well, of course she knew. It was the end of the first quarter of the school year, and Kendal had brought home her grade card. She has received perfect marks, like she usually did, but her math and science teachers had written small messages telling her that a career in math or science would be "best for her." Kendal had never wanted a career in math or science, her music was always the one thing she wanted to create for the rest of her life. It appeared that John now thought otherwise.

"It's not what I want to do. I know that music makes me happy, and that's exactly what I want." Kendal finished.

There was silence.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Kendal said, suddenly.

"For what?"

"For...I don't know, but everything is all complicated now."

"Kendal, you're only thirteen. You have a long time to figure out what you want to do with your life. Just...all this talk about you leaving is kind of...terrifying."

Kendal smiled slightly. "Believe me, I'm in no rush to leave London."

oOo

A/N SOMEBODY PLEASE HAVE AN IDEA FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER. All this week, I wanted to have Kendal sing to John, but I couldn't think of a perfect song, and even if I found one, why would Kendal be singing to John? If you have an answer to either of those questions, I beg of you to tell me.

Please review! Have a lovely day!


	8. Fix You

**_hey,_ my beautiful readers. **

**WARNING: This chapter is kind of fluffy. I apologize for any Feels caused by this chapter.**

_When you try your best but you don't succeed_

_When you get what you want but not what you need_

_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep_

_Stuck in reverse_

When the tears come streaming down your face

_When you lose something you can't replace_

_When you love someone but it goes to waste_

_Could it be worse?_

Kendal looked up from her guitar, smiling inwardly. John's pained expression had slid off of his face, he looked calmer. Kendal ignored the memory of John's face before she had broken out the guitar. (And her vocal chords.)

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

As Kendal's fingers gracefully found their way from a G chord to an A minor, she ran through the conversation that had brought her to this point.

_"You're worried about him." Kendal said, sitting down by her godfather._

_John looked up at her. "Kendal, I'm fine."_

_Kendal gave him a look that clearly said: You're not fooling anyone. It wasn't as if Kendal wasn't worried about Sherlock, also. But John had the look that was so often pasted on his face when Sherlock was still 'dead.' That hopelessly depressed look was more than enough to make Kendal want to cry. But she knew that Sherlock was going to be fine, every doctor had told her that._

_Kendal fought an urge to shudder as she remembered the sound of John's voice over the phone, telling her that Sherlock was injured during an investigation. He had been in the hospital for over two days._

_"As much as I would love to believe that you're fine, I'm finding it hard to. Maybe that's just the suspicious woman in me, but either way, the feeling is there." Her tone changed, becoming more calming. "They said he'd be back home by the end of the week."_

_John was silent. Kendal sighed inwardly and left the room._

That was when Kendal decided that, because she knew talking wouldn't make John less anxious, to do what she did best: sing.

Fix You (by Coldplay) seemed to perfectly fit her purpose. It was a very sweet song that, in Kendal's opinion, summed up her relationship with John very well. After all, weren't they both broken? Didn't they both need fixing?

_And high up above or down below_

_When you're too in love to let it go_

_But if you never try you'll never know_

_Just what you're worth_

Lights will guide you home

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

Tears stream down your face

_When you lose something you cannot replace_

_Tears stream down your face_

_And I_

Tears stream down your face

_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_

_Tears stream down your face_

_And I_

Lights will guide you home

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you._

Kendal carefully struck the last chord. She was almost afraid to look up at John, fearing that the stressed look would have returned. But when she finally gathered the courage to raise her head, she was pleasantly surprised (and, frankly, relieved) to see her dear godfather smiling.

"So..." Kendal said, quietly.

"Thank you, Kendal." John said.

"For what?" Kendal asked.

"That was exactly what I needed."

"John..." Kendal sighed. "That's sweet of you to say."

"No, really Kendal." John said. Normally, he wasn't an emotional person, but Kendal's gesture was truly touching. She noticed he was stressed, so she tried to make him feel better. He honestly couldn't remember the last time kindness like that was shown towards him.

Kendal half-smiled. "I'm always willing to sing...you know, if you need me to." Kendal picked up her guitar and left the room.

**I hope you all enjoyed that! If you want to see more of Kendal singing to John, or if you want a sick fic, or you have some request for a chapter, PLEASE TELL ME!**

**Also, if you think the song is approrpiate for John and Kendal's relationship, or if you have a different song that you think serves the purpose better, feel free to tell me.**

**Enjoy your days, loves.**


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